BOTH SIDES OF THE MOON

 

                                                               Chapter Eleven

 

Life goes on no matter how hard it is, and Jennifer was making the best of it. Being on her own didn’t make it easier, but it wasn't the first time. She did what she could, and was taking a sensible day by day attitude. She was back at work now, and that helped, being amongst work-mates again. She was by nature a friendly outgoing person, full of fun, but just a smidgin short of being extrovert. She had a number of friends in her office, and a few of them knew of her relationship with Bill.

     Though they were very sad for her at what had happened, they had often despaired at her choice of men, and her seeming inability to find one who was available long term.

    “What is it about you that you can’t find a man who isn’t already married?” she had been asked more that once.

    It was a question she couldn’t answer. It wasn’t something that she did intentionally, nor did it please her when, yet again, on getting to grips ‘so to speak’ with a knew, special, this is the one, man, she would discover that somewhere there was a wife and five kids.

    Perhaps it was to do with her perception of her age. Ever since she could remember she had felt older than her years: even as a schoolgirl she had always been drawn to older boys and men.

    Now older but little wiser  nothing much had changed. Something in the manner of ‘the older man’ attracted her. Even as a teenager long after she first became aware of the opposite sex, she would not look at boys her own age, but would find herself enticed towards the boys at least at the top end of their teens, or in their twenties.

    She was attractive, every one said so, and she had developed a ‘figure’ very early, so it was hardly surprising that she looked, and felt, older than she was. Nor was it surprising that the older boys looked at her. Her first significant experience of the wrong man was before she was sixteen. She had met a young soldier, home on leave, and quickly they became a couple. He was not her first boyfriend, but he had taken advantage that the lure that a uniform engenders.

     He had 'been around', 'knew the form', and had made her promises. For the first time in her young life she was thinking about a future with a man, and inevitably it was with him she lost her virginity. It was with equal inevitably that very soon afterwards he drifted away.

    It should have been a lesson in life to learn from, but the following years saw little change, and her apparent dislike of men - little boys, she would call them rather disparagingly - of her own age was set.

    In fact, it had not been all that long after her soldier, that she started her first affair with a married man. Since she no longer had her ‘honour’ to protect, married men seemed more adventurous, and more rewarding. They too looked for a reward, for with very few  exception a married man expected a 'complete' response from his girlfriends; so her affairs were always frantic, torrid, and usually short.

    Gradually the years went by, and she reached her mid twenties. By then she had lost count of her boy friends, and of her disappointments, but she had never lost her freshness and her happy persona. Indeed, it was those very attributes that attracted an unending queue of suitors, many of whom would have been eminently suitable as a life partner, but somehow she could never see the wood for the trees. It seemed to be a paradox, that though she always had so much choice, but she never seemed to make the right one.

    Then came Bill.

    It was the custom in her office that as each birthday came along, the girls and one or two men, would have an evening out at a local pub. Not so much to celebrate, as most of them would be quite happy not to be reminded that they were another year older, but it gave them the excuse to socialize with each other, and to meet in an ‘out of work’ environment.

    It was on one such outing that Bill came into her life. The party was well and truly under way, they had all had a few drinks, there was lots of laughter, and everyone was having a good time.

    “There’s Bill,” someone said, "he might want to join us."

    “Who’s Bill?” someone else replied.

    “You know Bill... he come in every month or so... I think he sells Office Supplies.”

    They all looked across to this man at the bar, tall, quite good looking, middle forties perhaps. “Call him over,” another voice said: “move up a bit Sal.”

    Sally, sitting opposite Jenny obligingly shuffled along the seat leaving her space free. Bill came along, clearly pleased to have been invited to join the party and sat down.

    “Ever the salesman, he was an easy talker and knew a good line when he saw one.

    “Ooh’," he said, as he made himself comfortable, “this is lovely and warm, bet you’ve got some other warm places.”

    They were all a bit merry, and the remark, far from causing offence, produced more laughter. A few more quips of that nature quickly established Bill as one of the gang. Even Sally, whose ‘warm places’ had been put under public scrutiny was laughing with the rest of them.

    It was Richard, sitting next to Jenny, who had called him over, and he introduced Bill all round, starting on his other side, going round the table until he reached Sally, at which point he said, “And sitting opposite you, last but not least, is Jenny.”

    “Hi folks, nice to meet you all.” Bill waved his hand in a circular greeting, and then, looking at Jenny he said, “Definitely not least.”

    There was a period of cross talk, each of them wanting to have something to say to the newcomer, but gradually it settled down to those nearest him.

    After a while Jenny asked him about his family, “You married then,” she asked “any kids?”

    “Yes I’ve got a wife, and two kids.” he answered

    He really did not want to talk about his family, much less his wife, but Jenny carried on, thinking it would please him. “How old are they - the children I mean?”

    “Well my son Jonathon is nearly ten, and then his sister Emma is... let me see...five now.”

    It was not very fluent, but in the noisy atmosphere of the pub, it passed unnoticed.

    “How about you?” Bill asked, turning the table. "a fine looking woman like you must have half a dozen kids.”

    Jenny wasn’t slow on the uptake, and the reference to her looks and her sexuality was not missed. However it was too soon, especially in the slightly inebriated state that they were in, to regard it as anything more than a man ‘fishing’. Throwing out the line to see what gets hooked.

    They maintained a conversation for the rest of the evening, and it became noticeable to the others in the party, that these two were 'getting there'.

    Jenny’s best friend sitting at the other side of Richard saw it too. From her position she couldn’t see much of Jenny, but she had a good view of Bill. She could see his eye’s, his expression, and his body language. She knew the signs, and she knew even before Jenny herself, that they would be seeing a lot more of each other.

    “Don’t be silly,” said Jenny, when her friend had confronted her in the ladies “were just having a good time.”

    Her friend looked long and hard. "We know you Jenny... we’ve seen it all before,” she said. “we can all tell that you like each other, and he’s another married man.”

    “Yes I do like him, but that doesn’t mean I want to jump in bed with him.”

    “So what’s new then?” said her friend “and what's the betting that he’d jump in to bed with you?”

    “Ah well that’s different . . .he’s a man, and besides he’s to old for me.” Jenny answered as if that were the final answer.

    Jenny’s best friend, had seen it all before. She had been glad for her, sad for her, cried with her, exasperated with her; but she was her friend. She knew that if she had to, she would do it again, and she also knew that if the mix was right with this ‘Bill’, she could not stop her.

    When they got back to the table they were surprised to find that Bill had gone, and Jenny realized that her friend was right. She was interested, she did like him, but he had gone. She was quite upset that she might have missed her chance, and she was fairly sure that he was interested in her too. For the moment his wife and two children were pushed to the back of her mind. Then she felt two hands on her shoulders. Two strong hands, in no hurry to move.

    “Back again,” said a voice. Jenny started to breath again, as Bill sat down facing her, a smile on his face. “Just been to the little boys room.”

    “The big boys room I wouldn't mind betting.” she answered, with a cheeky grin.

   Bill had been around too and he knew that that last remark had opened the door. How far remained to be seen, but he knew that a contest had been declared. The laughter continued around the table, and as usual in this kind of gathering, some risque jokes were being told, matters of sex being discussed, and one or two confidences being revealed. Add to that the mix of a generous helping of double entendre’s and the emergence of other pairings was fast becoming a distinct possibility.

    Bill and Jenny were drawn into this open confessional for a while, and whenever an answer or disclosure contained a sexual connotation each would look at the other. Gradually however they returned their own private conversation, and despite the cross table banter they had opened up a knew area of discussion.

    “How long is it since you made love then?” she asked in her slightly mocking, little innocent voice.

    “Oh’ I guess about five years,” he answered a little smile on his face. “Could be ten.”

   He knew she was playing with him, but he didn’t mind a but of fun.

    “Five years," she almost shouted, "how have you managed?"

    “Well I’ve had plenty of sex in that time, but you asked me about making love, and I think there is a difference.” Bill waited to see if there was any reaction. He couldn’t see it, but it was there.

    In spite of her apparent willingness to fall for a guy at the drop of a hat, Jenny was not just an easy pick-up, and behind her well formed figure there beat a sensitive heart. 'How was this man different to the other men she had known?' she was thinking. 'Had he just come up with a new pick up line?. Was there a difference between sex and love?'.  She, more than most, ought to know, though just now she was at a loss to answer, but she was starting to get an old familiar feeling.

    Bill was looking intently at Jenny; into her eyes, at her mouth. There was nothing really to see but he could see it just the same,  there had been a reaction.

     “Well then,” she tried again, wanting to get him to reveal something of himself. “How long is it since you had sex?” this question spoken in a matter of fact manner, as if she were conducting a survey.

     “Now that would be telling.” he answered, smiling broadly. Then it was his turn to be mischievous. He leaned forward so that he could lower his voice. “That is for me to know...and for you to find out.” He was looking straight into her eyes; the smile had gone and in it’s place was a look of pure desire.

     He took Jenny home after the party, and they became lovers that very night. It was the start of the longest relationship she had ever had; the truest love she had ever known, and the most faithful to any man she had ever been.

     Bill had told her about his life with Margaret as fairly as he could, and had promised that when the children were old enough, they would be together. In the meantime Jenny made her flat a home for two whenever he could make it, and he promised Jenny that as long as he was 'with' her, there would be no other women in his life.

     She never had any doubt that he had kept that promise.

    She accepted the presence of his wife and family, knowing that he had a duty to support them, but in the knowledge that one day, he would be there for her alone.

     She could not know that her sweet dreams would die with Bill on that dreadful day.

 

Just as he said he would, John Bellamy telephoned Margaret Marshall to see if she need any further help in settling the affairs of her late husband, and, crossing his fingers, did she need him to call again.

    "Oh. Please," she said, "there's a problem regarding one of Bill’s work policies; but I can come to you if that would be easier."

    "Not to worry." he said as he uncrossed his fingers "I'll be out your way later today. Will that be satisfactory?"

    "Damn," he muttered, "could have done without that. No matter, shouldn't take long." still talking under his breath, as he jotted a note in his appointment book. "Best do it today and get it out of the way."

    It was well turned five when he drew up in front of Mrs Marshall's scruffy garden, and got out of his car.

    “It’s about time someone cut the grass.” he couldn't help thinking as he walked along the path to the front door. He climbed the few steps and was just about to knock when the door was opened by Margaret who had seen the car stop outside the house.

    “Come in Mr Bellamy, it’s good of you to call, and in good time too! I've just put the kettle on.”

    They sat down in the front room, and she told him of the difficulty that had occurred. He agreed to take it up with Bill’s employers, who he thought were just trying it on, but assured her "when we get onto them, they will soon change their tune."

    Margaret made the tea, and brought out some cakes and they settled down for a little chat. She told him about the difficulties she had been having with Jonathan, and how good one of the doctors had been to her. He in turn told her that he was looking for a new flat, and of the problems related to that. More talk about this and that followed, and it became a pleasant interlude, in which, despite his previous hesitation, John was beginning to feel comfortable.

    Unsurprisingly he asked Margaret about her plans for the future. Would she move to a knew house? and would she be looking for some investments now that she was well provided for in Bill’s will. No doubt he had an eye for some new business, and of him as adviser. “Maybe these are things that will be more important if you get married again.” he said, not implying anything other than a routine statement.

    “That might be a possibility.” she said, perhaps thinking her thoughts out loud.

    “Well now.” he said “When it gets nearer the time, let me know and we will have a look at your policies...see what might need changing. Maybe your knew ‘husband to be’ might need to look at his requirements too” he said, always on the lookout for possible commissions.

    “It’s a bit too soon to talk about new husbands.” Margaret said, realizing that she was being presumptuous. “I’m going on too much, we haven’t quite got there yet.”

     “Well no doubt you will let me know things are a bit more positive.” as he stood up preparing to leave.

     “I’ll see myself out Mrs Marshall.”

     He had reached the door and turned to say goodbye, and as he did so his eye fell on some sheets of paper lying on the hall table. They clearly displayed the Wixley Hospital Logo, which John had seen many times. But there was something else on the papers about which John was equally familiar - quite clearly he could see the signature of Edward Willett.

    "Forgive me if I intrude," he said "but I just spotted those papers from Edward Willett; I know him well; have you met him?”

    Now Margaret really wished she had been less forthcoming, and felt that she had to say more than she wanted to.

    “He’s the man I’ve just been talking about.” she said hoping that would be enough, and that her visitor would go now.

    John stood at the door, his hand still on the door handle. "Do you mean your prospective new husband?" He was shocked, and didn’t know what to do. He seemed to be frozen.

    "It's too soon." she started to explain, but stopped when she saw Mr Bellamy's strange expression.

    Mr Bellamy was feeling very strange. “Are you alright?” he could hear Mrs Marshall saying. “Mr Bellamy... are you alright?”

    “Do you mind if I sit down Mr Marshall, I don’t feel too well.”

     Margaret took him back to the lounge and sat him down. “What on earth is it Mr Bellamy; you were as right as rain a few minutes ago.”

    “I’m so sorry," he said, "I’m afraid I have had rather a shock, and I think there is something I should tell you."

    She brought him a glass of water, and he sipped a little, then got to his feet. “I’m Sorry to give you such a shock Mrs Marshall, but I’m alright now, thank you for your concern.”

    He made his way as if to go. “But what was it that upset you?” she asked, “was it something in that letter?”

    Remembering that the papers Mr Bellamy had seen were the ‘fake’ documents that Edward had made up to justify Jonathan’s attendance at the hospital, Margaret was confused.

    “There can’t be anything in there to cause such a reaction.” she said to him.

    “I made a mistake, I’m sorry.” Me Bellamy tried to leave.

    “You must tell me or I’ll never settle.” Margaret pleaded “Please, what is it?”

    “May I sit down again;” he said “you may never forgive me for what I am about to tell you.”

     It took a while for him to find his words, but began by pleading with her. “I hope you have the courage to ignore it and do what your heart tells you.”

    Then he went on to tell her about himself and Edward. That they had separated and that they were trying to make a new life for themselves. He kept it as short as he could, but tried to be thorough, and wherever he was able, presented Edward in the best possible light. When he stopped talking Margaret sank back in her chair. She was stunned and shocked. She couldn’t think of anything to say. After a few minutes of silence she asked, “Why did you leave him; you speak so kindly of him...you cared for him...why did you leave him?”

    “I loved him.” he said simply “but he needed to grow.” John was feeling very tense now. “He had changed so much since we met,” he explained, “and he had developed from a shy introvert into a much stronger person.”

    He looked at Margaret. Her eyes were closed but he was sure she was listening. “He became more assertive, and would express his  opinions; and, truth to tell he didn’t need me any more, and I had come to realize that he was not living the life that was right for him.”

    He was finding it hard to put the right words together. “He was like a bird with a broken wing; I looked after him until he could fly again; until he could love again.”

    Then simply, as though he could say no more, he concluded. “He needed to find his own life Mrs Marshall;  I had to let him go.”

    Margaret sat up now, looking for a tissue to dry her eyes. “You are a good man John Bellamy, I hope Edward will always know that you are a good man.” she paused briefly before continuing, “I don’t know at the moment, I need to do a lot of thinking, but I will try to take your advice and ignore what you have told me, and then maybe I will be the one to tell him.”

    “I do hope so, I will always be fond of Edward, and if he should finish up with someone like you I will be very happy” He stood once again preparing to leave. “He’s a good man too.”

 

Edward had arranged to collect Margaret near her home and take her to her work at the supermarket. He didn’t own a car, and there wasn’t time for busses, so he had booked a taxi. Arriving at the pre arranged place, he saw Margaret and he felt a tingle of pleasure. Nothing had prepared him for this, and he found it hard to understand why he was so excited.

    In all his life, at least in all his adult life, he had somehow been shielded from women, other than his mother, and an aunt. He had even been ‘distant’ with his mother, as though contact, or even closeness with women, was something to be avoided. He had been an only child, so had also missed out on having sisters. Even worse, his mother had died when he was about ten, and he had gone to live with her older sister. She had been very kind to Edward, but her two sons were older and he saw little of them. His memory of his father was vague. He would visit now and again at his new home, but gradually the time between visits increased, until they stopped altogether. He could not remember how long it had been since he last saw him, and now he had no idea where he was, or even if he was still alive.

   Despite his aunty's homely love, he had grown up insecure and uncertain about himself. School was always difficult for him, his quiet demeanour making him a natural target for the bullies, and any academic qualities he had were submerged beneath the weight of his more immediate problems.

    He did however have one ally, the one lady in his life who seemed to care. His mother’s sister Doris, who had taken him following her sister's death,  when his father had made it clear that there would be no room for him in his life.

    He had never called her ‘mum’, though he had a great affection for her, and she was probably a better mum to him than his real one had been, for she had quickly realized that her new charge was a boy with a problem. She gave him the love he needed and though not particularly gifted herself would help him as much as she could with his school work. It was probably more due to her, than anyone else, that Edward survived at all, and eventually he was able to end his school days with results that were at least no worse than most of his school chums.

    It was she who encouraged him to carry on his education at night school, and then later when he developed an interest in the medical world it was she who was always there, supporting him, - sometimes reproaching him if she thought he wasn’t trying - as he continued his studies.

    She had been like a shining beacon; the one person in his life with whom he had felt safe and secure. He was seventeen when that light went out, and Edward felt a greater loss at her death, than when he lost his ‘real’ mother.

 

When Margaret got into the taxi, Edward leaned forward as though to give her a kiss on the cheek, but she pulled back just enough to prevent him doing so.

    “Hello Margaret,” he said, “I’m so pleased you could make it.”

    “Did you think I wouldn’t” she answered in a rather cold manner. “I said I would be here, and here I am.”

    “Sorry Margaret.” he said, slightly concerned by her sullen mood, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

    He thought that her cold tone might be a signal that she was going to end their relationship, or tell him that it must not go beyond friendship. He could feel his hopes fading away, even though he had known from the start that she might not feel the same as he. Perhaps he should not have made his feelings known so soon, but it was too late now. And he couldn't forget that she has kissed him!. Twice now she has kissed him. It is true that the first one had been little more than a peck, yet he had felt something, something he could hardly sense, let alone describe, but he was sure that in that kiss there was a little magic.

    He had no doubt about the second one. He knew that the second kiss was a sign of real affection, maybe even love. He couldn’t tell for certain which it was, but he knew that it was a special moment. “So why is she being so cold now?” he asked himself.  “Have I been getting it wrong all the time?”

    Margaret had been very quiet, but when she spoke, her words gave Edward no comfort at all. “You haven’t upset me Edward; but I have been doing a great deal of thinking, and I have to be sure; ” she stopped mid sentence and looked at him, “we both have to be sure; that we are going in the right direction.”

    Edward could not answer. “This is it.” he thought. “This is when Margaret carefully, no doubt kindly, lays me aside. Not wanted.”

    “Have you any plans?” he asked, trying to sound as though he would not be too put out by what he thought he was about to hear, and even trying to make it easier for her.

    “Not really.” she answered. “Nothing really.” It seemed as though she was going to say more, and then changed her mind.

    The taxi had now reached the supermarket, Margaret had got her things together, and was preparing to leave the car.

    Edward had to try once more. Time was running out and it might be now or never. He felt that there was nothing to lose any more.

     "I had hoped that your plans might include me.”

    It was a simple statement, simply put, but if there had been any doubt in Margaret’s mind as to Edwards feelings, that doubt was now removed.

    She gave him a long look. Her face somehow softer now. “You have told me so little about yourself Edward; how can I turn to you when I know so little about you?”

    Before he was able to answer, the taxi driver intervened, turning in his seat he said.  “Here we are; this do for you?”

    They both got out, and as he paid the taxi man Edward knew that this might be the last chance. “It’s simple.” he said. “In just a few weeks you have become the most important thing in my life, and I want to be with you.”

    Now that he had started, he didn’t want to stop, so he continued while he could. “There are things I need to tell you; things you need to know; about me.” Speaking quietly but quickly, taking the opportunity while he could, he continued. “Until recently I didn’t think you would be at all interested to know anything about me, so I didn’t tell you.”

    “Tell me what?” Margaret asked, as if puzzled.

    Edward stopped her by gently placing his fingers on her lips. “Now that I love you,” he said, surprised at his boldness. He had finally said it. For the first time in his life he had declared

his love for a woman. “Now that I love you,” he repeated, this time looking directly into her eyes “I want you to know everything about me.”

    He paused again, this time struggling within himself to find the right words. “There are some things about me that you might not like, and when I tell you, it might turn you against me forever,” he said, still unsure of what he was going to say, and how he was going to say it.

    “Is there something about you so bad that it would make me do that?” Margaret asked, kindly, with some compassion.

    “Some people might think so.” he said almost inaudibly.

     She knew that it was important that Edward should tell her himself. He didn’t know that John had told her all about him, but she was certain that it should not come from her. He had to be the one to clear the way. She wanted to help him, to tell him that it didn’t matter, that they could find a way, but did not know how, and did not dare tell him that she already knew?. It was a dilemma for them both.

    Margaret was getting agitated. How often it is that at critical moments in ones life, some other unrelated factor gets in the way. She looked at her wrist watch and saw that she was already five minutes late for work.

    This was one of those critical moments, the taxi was long gone, and they were standing in the car park of a supermarket and Edward was so near to telling her his secret.

    Of course it had been a shock when she found out about his past, but she had thought about it a great deal; she had thought of nothing else since last night, and she had come to realize that everything she had known about him before John’s bombshell was still true, and that her feelings had not changed.

    She was no expert, but she could guess that there would be some problems for them to solve. A man's sexuality is deep rooted, and can’t be changed overnight. As far as she could tell Edward had never made love with a woman, and she had no way of knowing if that would change.

    “Would he want to make love with me?” she had asked herself, but she did not know the answer. Would it matter anyway, and would he be able to stay with her?”

    More questions, but no answers. “Yes, there were going to be some difficult times ahead,” she had told herself “but I think I can face them.”

    Edward had stopped talking; he seemed lost for words, and the expression on his face, dark and gloomy, suggested that he thought that he had lost.

    “Edward," she said, standing a little closer now, and speaking almost as quietly as he.

    “Tell me quickly then it’s done.”

    She remembered saying almost the same thing to Jonathan only a few weeks before.

    “You only have to say it once, and it’s over.”

    Edward looked at her, saw that she was smiling. “I’m gay.” That’s all he said, and then waited for the look of horror, the shock and revulsion to transform her face.

    Nothing happened. Margaret was still smiling, and then she put her arms around him and squeezed him as hard as she could.

     They remained as they were, locked together, his arms now around her, while cars were negotiating the parking bays all around them, and shoppers, returning to the cars they had parked earlier, were unloading their purchases on either side of them.

    Neither the curious glances, or even the gentle rain, which had started not long after they arrived in the taxi, could move them.

    Eventually they separated from each other, nothing more said for some time as they tried to take in what had happened. Edward hardly dared to believe that Margaret was still here, that they were still together. He was unable to speak, and in any case could find no words.

    Margaret was more worldly perhaps, and it was she who recovered first. “We must go Edward.” she said softly. “We have lots and lots to talk about, and some serious questions to answer, but I think we might get there.”

    “Are you going to take a chance with me?” he asked, scarcely believing, and holding his breath, waiting for her to say no, but praying it would be yes.

    “Not so fast.” she was still cautious “One step at a time Edward, and we’ve just taken the first one. Granted it was a big one, but it was the first. Now I must go to work, or I will be out of a job."

    He agreed to be waiting for her when she finished at half past four, and then she was off. It was raining quite hard now, and she turned when she reached the door to wave. In a moment she was inside, coming face to face with her supervisor, with whom, not long ago, she had publicly rowed for being late. She had clearly been watching Margaret through the window, with this man, and was looking at her watch as she came in.

    “Good morning Mrs. Woods," Margaret said to the surprised supervisor, before she had a chance to speak. “Isn’t it a lovely morning?” she said as she sailed past her.

    Mrs Woods looked out of the window at the now pouring rain, unable to prevent a little smile appearing on her face.

 

Jonathan was very unhappy at the way things had turned out with Claire. A week had gone by since that night, and he had only spoken to her a couple of times, and they hadn't come anywhere near to ‘going out’ together. He felt that he must try again, or risk loosing her altogether, so he waited for her by the main door at the end of her last class of the day, hoping that she would leave by her usual route.

    He was pleased when he saw her coming, talking and laughing with two other girls, and when she was near enough he called to her. “Hi Claire” he shouted, praying that she would stop when she saw him, but to his dismay she just waved. Her friends give him a grin, but they continued on their way.

    Jonathan stood and watched, as they went further and further away, until they reached the end of the building, turned the corner, and were gone from his sight. He stayed where he was for five minutes, trying to make his mind up what to do. Tonight there was to be another training session, and he had hoped to persuade Claire along to support him, but most of all he was anxious to get back ‘on track’ with their relationship. He had not stopped seeing her because he didn’t like her any more. Just the opposite in fact. Now that they had been so close; as close as it is possible to get, his feelings for Claire had grown, and he wanted her to remain as his girlfriend.

    Now it seemed she had shown him how she felt, and he didn’t know what to make of it. She had just walked on, leaving him standing there, and didn’t seem to be at all concerned. He supposed that there was  little he could do, and with an empty feeling he set off to walk towards the sports field.

    "That's it then, if she didn’t want me any more." he was thinking, when he heard some running footsteps behind him, and his name being called. As he spun round, he knew it was Claire, and she was almost upon him. He put his arms out and she ran straight into them, and in a moment he was spinning her round. Their kiss was not passionate, but warm and friendly.

    A making up kiss.

    “I’ve missed you a lot.” he said as he put her down “I’m sorry that I haven't been around much.”

    “Me too; but I think it’s alright now. Anyway, I thought it would be better to keep out of your way for a little while.”

    She seemed to have shed the gloom, that was enveloping her when they had last met, and was quite chirpy.

    “You look great," he said feeling better himself at this turn of fortune, “and you; sort of; seem better.”

    “Sorry,” she said “I was a bit gloomy, wasn’t I, but it’s alright now.”

    That was twice she had said that it would be alright now, and Jonathan was rather puzzled. Before he could ask however, she was asking him.  “Where are you going; and why were you waiting for me?”

    “I never said I was waiting for you,” he said “what makes you think that?” giving her a sharp slap on her bottom, then grabbing her by the waist he spun her round again. In just that short time they were reunited as a couple, happy with each other once more, but now sharing a secret knowledge of each other.

    As they walked off Jonathan was telling Claire of his new found appetite for running.  He told her of his first session, when he had won one of the practice races, though he forgot to mention the few early ones when he came near to last last.

    Then he told her about the other times, when he did some time trials at different distances, to see if there were any early clues to his best range, and all about the different exercises and training. His enthusiasm was catching, and when he asked her if she would go with him now, she quickly agreed. “Just you try stopping me.” she laughed, as she gave him a soft thump at the top of his arm and then ran off.

    Jonathan couldn’t resist this opportunity to chase her, catch her, and kiss her. Before letting her go, he asked. “Why did you walk straight past me earlier?” in a mock critical tone. For the first time Claire looked serious. “It’s been a bit difficult for me.” she said “My friends know about you, and when they saw that we were not together, I had to pretend that we had split.”

    She had to think out what she was going to say next. “I couldn’t tell them that we; well, you know; well not at first anyway."

    Jonathan’s head came up. “What do you mean, not at first; do you mean to say you’ve told everyone?”

    “No, not everyone silly; only my two friends; and they think it’s cool.”

   Jonathan relaxed a little, but now he knew why those two girls had given him such a grin. “But why did you have to tell them?” he asked “It should be just between you and me.”

    “It is Jonathan; but I had to ask someone who knows about it.”

    “Knows about what?” Jonathan was starting to get a little bit peevish      

     “Oh’ Jonathan!” she said “Don’t you boys know anything?” showing a touch of exasperation. “When you do what we did there are sometimes consequences. Things sometimes happen that you don’t want to happen.” She stopped in her tracks, hands on hips.

    “Do you know what I'm talking about Jonathan?” now it was Claire's turn to be a little cross.

     He nodded, guessing that he knew what she was talking about, but not saying in case he was wrong.

    “Well I went to a chemist with my friends, and got some stuff.” She looked at him for any sign that he was catching on, but Jonathan’s face was expressionless, so she had to keep on explaining. “But as it happened I didn’t need to use it because my visitor came.” she said, lowering her voice a little.

    Now Jonathan’s face was wearing an expression; complete puzzlement. “What do you mean, visitor?” He asked, now genuinely confused.

    Claire laughed out loud. “That’s what my mother calls it.” and she whispered something into his ear.

    “Oh’ that.” he said nonchalantly, as if he had known all the time. “Thought it might be that.”